


Guys my age

by WritingforTheAvengers



Category: Avengers, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Hey Violet - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-17 02:48:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11842380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingforTheAvengers/pseuds/WritingforTheAvengers
Summary: “And what is a nice girl like you, doing in a place like this?” He asked before sipping from his drink.“What can I say?” you shrugged, “my ex-man done me wrong and here I am spending my nights talking to hot but old strangers.” A flirty smile drew on your lips.“Ouch,” Clint took his hand to his heart in an offended manner, “don’t hurt your old man like that, kid.”





	1. Chapter 1

You got out of the shower with a white towel wrapped around your body. Andy Black blasting in the background, as loud as your neighbors allowed. Dancing around at the rhythm of the music, you took out clothing from the drawers and started sliding it on your frame.

Your music faded away and in its place, your ringtone rang. You looked at it and ignored the caller. It had been about four weeks since you’d been ignoring your lame ex; he wanted to get back together with you because he missed you very much but you felt completely disgusted by the idea. Someone told you guys your age were idiots and even though he seemed normal at first, he proved to be everything you were told he would.

Zipping up your leather jacket and turning the keys, you hit downtown to see what could the night life offer a single lady such as yourself. You came across a nice-looking place with some live music and seats near the stage to enjoy the music while being seated and drinking. As you made your first order, you couldn’t help but to look at the guy a few tables away from you. He was kinda hot in a rough way.

After exchanging glances at one another, he made the first move of changing seats next to you. His name was Clint, or so he said. Much older than you but not enough to be an old guy.

“And what is a nice girl like you, doing in a place like this?” He asked before sipping from his drink.

“What can I say?” You shrugged. “My ex-man done me wrong and here I am spending my nights talking to hot but old strangers,” a flirty smile drew on your lips.

“Ouch,” Clint took his hand to his heart in an offended manner, “don’t hurt your old man like that, kid,”

After some enriching music, conversation and drinks, you found that that Clint used to work in a circus and that he was more or less skilled at shooting arrows. You were rather impressed with that and you asked him to please show you how to shoot one, and after paying for the drinks, he walked with you back to his place which was not far from the bar.

The night was a bit chilly, but not enough to make you shiver. His conversation was just as fun and as relaxed as he was inside the bar with all the noise and the people around you. At first you thought he was one of those guys who liked pick up young girls because he couldn’t afford to be with one his age, but he seemed more like the guy who actually didn’t care if he was with one or not. Like he didn’t care at all of anything around him, really.

His apartment was entirely neat, and even cleaner than yours. You wandered around his living room while he took out some beers from the fridge for you to drink. You saw some pictures with him and two children, and lots and lots of other people.

“If it’s not too personal, who are the kids in these pictures?” You pointed at one of the pictures.

“My sister’s kids,” he replied, getting closer and handing you your freezing can. “Good kids,”

“And I’m sure they love their uncle Clint, right?” You mocked. “That’s sweet,”

“What can I say?” He shrugged, rising his hands along with him. “Everyone tends to love me the minute they meet me so… we all win here, right?” He opened his can and took a long sip from it. You saw how his Adam’s apple bobbed and suddenly he became even hotter than how you pictured him. You decided to take a good sip too and let yourself enjoy his company.

Two beers later you were on the rooftop trying to shoot arrows, but it was useless, you were not only bad at it, you were terrible; not a single one hit the bull’s-eye, nonce. He, on the other hand, was incredibly good. He was so damn good that he didn’t need to look at his target. He looked at you and kept talking while shooting.

It was like watching that Brave scene when Merida rejects the sons of the lords, only 10 times cooler.

“You have to relax. You have to be the bow,” he tried to explain. “Try screaming, at the top of your lungs,” you did as he told you but you only ended up with a sore throat, “did that work?” You shook your head. “Yeah, I didn’t think so either,” he rolled his eyes, “ok, now try shaking?” You did, but you only felt even more ridiculous and he tried hard not to laugh at you.

“Oh god, I’m done with this,” you huffed and handed Clint his bow and the arrow he gave you to try.

“No, come on,” he said. “Take my hand–” Clint reached out his free hand and you reluctantly accepted it— “now close your eyes and try to breathe with me," his voice was soft, and it took you a moment before you started imitating what he was doing. You felt your chest expanding with the air income and with your hands in his, you actually felt much more relaxed.

He slowly got closer and closer, until you had his breath brushing your lips. Your mouth hung a bit open when you felt the proximity of his. It was pure gut instinct that took over your senses, and in a split second you were crashing your lips on his and pulling from his jacket to make the distance disappear.

His strong hands held your waist tightly, and his thumbs circled the uncovered spots of your skin. The bow and quiver fell onto the concrete floor and the night suddenly became hotter. His mouth molded perfectly with yours and his tongue gently slid to intertwine with yours. Somehow, you were not very interested in shooting arrows anymore.

He carried you back to his apartment and closed the door by pushing you onto it. You got rid of your jacket and top and Clint followed in suit, revealing a scarred but ridiculously well-defined torso. You went for his lips again as he walked with you somewhere in his apartment, soon you realized it was his bedroom.

He gently placed you over the mattress and started placing soft kisses along your jawline and down your neck. He clearly knew what he was doing and you understood why people kept telling that messing around with boys your age was a waste of time. Older men definitely knew what to do, where to do it, when to do it and how to do it. His pace was soft, unlike your ex’s who wanted to get shit done ASAP; oh no, Clint took his time with you, making you enjoy the pleasures of being with a man with experience.

Your breath got caught in your windpipe when you felt a pair of calloused hands near the valley of your breasts, he slowly pulled down the fabric of your bra, giving you enough time to react and tell him to stop, but you said nothing, and your silence only indicated the permission he had. You helped Clint by freeing yourself from the straps and unclasping it from behind. Just a little help.

“I could that on my own, (Y/N),” he teased, keeping his lips glued to the skin of your chest. “I am not like the guys your age,”

“Since you’re a bit older—” you gasped— “I thought you might need a little help, right?”

“Well, I appreciate that,” he looked up at you and nodded.

He kissed and sucked on the hot skin of your breasts; Clint also spread your legs wider to lay comfortable in between them and use them as support once his lips carried on their way down to the hem of your jeans. He quickly unmade the button and pulled the fabric down your legs.

You supported yourself with your elbows on the mattress as he pulled away your wet underwear with his teeth. His hot breathing was a terrible teaser and it was amazing, because in your life someone had taken such care of you. His tongue did wonders and you were sure that you were tearing up his quilt with your tight grip. Hope he didn’t mind.

In a matter of seconds, you were blissfully screaming the Lord’s name and pushing Clint’s head closer to you. It took you a while you fathom how good he was just by eating you out. You stared at the ceiling, trying hard to catch your breath.

“Better than younger guys?” he savored his own lips, smirking wickedly at you.

“Oh, most certainly. Guys my age don’t know how to treat me right,”

“It’s only about to get better,” he unmade his jeans, revealing a glorious shaft under the tight underwear, and before throwing them away, he picked up a condom from his side table. At least he didn’t need to be told to fucking use one. You made a mental note on the various reasons why older guys were better than guys your age.

He positioned himself in between your legs, teasing your entrance with his length and slowly pushed in. He placed his hands on both sides of your head and lowered his upper body to distract you from the stretching feeling by placing soft kisses on your lips. You were rather confused by his love demonstrations, was this a plain fuck or was he… being tender?

You arched your back from the mattress and held on to his broad shoulders as he pounded harder each second. You wrapped your legs around his waist and dug your heels on his butt. You loved to hear when he grunted trying to reach a deeper point in you; he was not loud, and compared to you he was a bit silent, but the little moans that spilled on his lips sounded like heaven.

If your previous orgasm was amazing, this one was indescribable. You couldn’t recall coming so loud and so joyfully. You surrendered on the mattress while he helped you ride out the orgasm while reaching his own. You had never been the one to come first, let alone a guy waiting for you. Well, he was not a random guy, he was a man.

After pulling out, he placed a sweet kiss on your forehead, and headed to the bathroom. You started picking up your clothes to get quickly dressed and leave, but before you could walk away from the bedroom, he appeared in his pajamas (that only included a pair of shorts) and leaned on the door frame.

“You’re not staying for breakfast?” He asked. “I mean, it’s a bit late for you to go out there,”

“I can call an Uber,” you shrugged.

“I’m a bit of a sucker for cuddling,” he admitted, shrugging and walking to the bed, “why don’t you accept my invitation for breakfast and stay the night?” He patted the bed with a huge grin on his face. “You can take a shirt from the drawer; the first one,”

You sighed and did as he told. He was a bit right, it was too late to call an Uber and breakfast sounded like a great idea. You searched for a shirt you liked and that you could keep. A purple one with a red, white and blue bull’s-eye in the middle. It was big enough to cover your butt and you loved the way it looked on you. You even got whistles and cheering from Clint as you did a bit of modeling. When you were about to close the drawer, you found some dark, leather-looking clothing.

“What’s this?” You asked, holding the sort of sleeveless vest.

“Oh, it’s my uniform,”

“Circus uniform?” You asked again, folding the garment and closing for good the drawer. You slid under the covers and cuddled next to Clint.

“No, more like avenging uniform. I’m Clint Barton, by the way," he smiled, kissed the top of your head and then called it quits by turning off the lights.


	2. Brand new moves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the Raft, Clint Barton comes back to town and you are his priority number one. First parts are good, second parts prove to be better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen to "Brand New Moves" by Hey Violet, it was kind of my inspiration for this :)

“What a sight for sore eyes are you,” a manly, deep voice called from behind your back. You turned your head to see the person and smiled widely when you saw a familiar stranger behind you. Clint Barton was apparently back in town and quite eager to see you. You got up from your seat and clung on to his broad shoulders as the whole office stared at you. If it wasn’t because you were wearing a pencil skirt, you would have probably wrapped your legs around his waist to make sure he was not going anywhere. “Oh, someone missed me or what?” He chuckled with his face buried in your hair.

“You’re back!” You squealed. “I thought—Clint, what happened?! Where have you been?”

“Outta’ the country, but…” he stopped and looked around to you incredulous coworkers, “do you have time now or would you rather me to pick you up when you get out?”

“I’ll go out for lunch in like…” you peeked over to the clock on the wall and winced, “in like an hour and a half, so… let’s meet up for a drink later, okay?”

“Okay,” he leaned in and kissed your forehead. And just like that he was gone again, but you were certain that he’d be back once you were free.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Clint; truth be told, you had had such a great time with him the first time you met him and even though never saw him again, you still texted a lot. His avenging work kept him far from you, and even though he’d gone through a period in which you didn’t talk at all, he hadn’t forgotten about you, apparently. You missed him, you didn’t even need to lie about it. He was a sweetheart even though he was the actual representation of a bitch-resting face, and especially that “I couldn’t care less” attitude. You cared about him and so did he for you.

Your phone started ringing with a number you didn’t know, but when you picked it up it was Clint telling you he was outside. You hadn’t even realized that it was time to finally leave and be free. You picked up your bag and jacket and ran outside to see him leaning on the side of the car, as if he was taken out from an old movie. When you went to say hi, he grabbed your arm and pulled you closer to crash his lips on yours. He cupped your face with his hands and you held on to his wrists.

It’s not like it took you for surprise, but you weren’t expecting he’d do that so early and sober. Your one and only encounter was with a few drinks on and now there was no alcohol involved and he still wanted to kiss you. That definitely meant something.

“Is it just me, or you missed me?” You teased, resting your forehead against his. “How are you? I heard what happened in Leipzig—”

“Long story short, I was there,” he sighed, cutting you off and letting go of you, “but I’m back home and I’ve missed you a ton,” he pecked your lips once more and helped you getting into his car.

He drove to the bar where you two met; you hadn’t gone there ever since. The place looked completely different on daylight and so did Clint. His face looked older, obviously, but something about him had changed; it was not the same careless man you met, perhaps something had happened in Leipzig that made him change. Did you really want to find out what happened?

You two talked for hours about everything and nothing. It was so different from the first time you met; he seemed much more relaxed and he wasn’t even flirting. He was just a regular guy having a conversation with an old friend and you were there, just having the time of your life.

“So, you were in Leipzig, and then…?” You asked.

“Off to some strange place, it’s hidden and kinda secret,” he shrugged, taking the bottle of beer to his lips and letting go of the topic; apparently he was traumatized enough to not talk about it and as much curiosity you had to find out about it and what had happened with the avengers, you had to let it go, for his own sake, “and what about you? Someone new in your life?” He asked after an awkward silence.

“I’ve been around,” you admitted with a careless shrug.

“Back with you the man who did you wrong?” He asked with a suspicious look.

“God, no,” you giggled. “He didn’t know how to treat me, so he can go fuck himself with the girl he dumped me for. I don’t know who the biggest idiot is,” you rolled your eyes. “I’ve learnt some new moves since we last saw each other,” you smiled and took a sip from your beer. “What about you, any woman you left with a heartbreak back at that spooky ass place you won’t tell me about?”

“Not really, or at least I don’t think I did,” he shook his head to both sides. “You’re gonna have to show me those brand new moves someday,” he nodded in agreement. “You look gorgeous, (Y/N),” he admitted, “and I’m not drunk,” he clarified with a wide grin on his lips. You bit your bottom lip, being unsure on what to say next, so you just looked away and nervously fixed your hair.

It got quite late and you were a bit tired and in need of some rest. He drove you home and awaited for you until you got inside. Seeing him definitely changed your plans, not because you had something to do the next day, but because in the time he had not been with you, you still went out to have fun with men. What did his return mean? Was he back in the States for you? Most probably not, but you’d surely find out what was it all about.

You couldn’t erase the great smile on your lips once you were inside your place. It lasted until you had to turn off the lights. Just when you were about to fall asleep, your phone vibrated and lit up.

“ _What up gorgeous? Can I see you tomorrow? Or soon?_ ”

“ _I’m free tomorrow,_ ” you typed half awake, “ _let’s Netflix and chill and cut the bullshit._ ” You pressed send and it was all done. You weren’t the one to give excuses. You missed that aspect of Clint because it was the only one you knew and liked. He was a sweet guy when you weren’t having sex, but he was a great man when you were. You turned off the internet of your phone and laid your head again back onto the pillow.

He showed up at your place at around 4, bringing a bag of nachos and a pack of beers with him; he really did know how to make his way to your heart. You put some random action movie’; between eating and undressing each other with your mere eyes, the film was left unattended and you weren’t really interested in it anyway.

You had your legs across the couch and he had his lap under your knees. He kept you close with an arm behind your back and he gently rubbed it from over your shirt. His other arm was around your shins. You cupped his face and started kissing him; as the making out went by, the kiss became less gentle and more passionate.

“So, no Netflix?” He chuckled when he found an intentional uncovered spot of your frame right after the hem of your loose shirt. “Silly me for thinking—”

“That’s your mistake,” you said huskily, “thinking, so shut up and fuck me already,” you breathed against his lips as you slid your shirt and threw it away. You pushed him deeper onto the back of the sofa and you straddled his lap as you were starting to get rid of his shirt. You realized there were more scars now, and there were some uglier ones; you stopped for a minute, not because you doubted, but because when he didn’t want to talk about what had happened it was most probably because he had been beaten the shit up. You swallowed hard and looked at him straight in the eye. Your mouth hung slightly open in pure terror, and your bottom lip trembled. “Clint, where have you been?”

“Somewhere really awful,” he said in a low voice and looking away from you, “but I really don’t wanna talk about it,” he shook his head.

“Well,” you replied, with a just gained confidence boost, “you’re gonna fuck me senseless and we’ll forget about everything that’s ever hurt us,” you cupped his face and pressed your forehead against his, “you’re mine tonight, Barton, only mine, you got it?”

“Yes ma’am,” he agreed, leaning forward as he captured your lips with his.

His kiss was hungry, just as if he craved for you, as if his time away had made him insatiable of you even though your one and only time together could have served forever. His hands, though rough at first, slowly made their way up your torso and up to the clasp of your bra. Just as calmly, he pulled down the straps, revealing your chest and feeling mesmerized by the delicacy of your curves.

His lips parted way from yours and brushed their way down your jawline and neck until the valley of your breasts was well-attended and cared for. He looked up again, and his eyes were darkened with an animalistic look you had never seen before. His hands roamed down to the back of your knees and effortlessly stood up with you safe from harm in his arms.

Somehow, he made his way towards the kitchen and sat you over a cold countertop; Clint skillfully started undressing without separating your mouths. First, he helped you get rid of your shorts, but when you wanted to pull your underwear down, he stopped you.

“They are not a problem,” he groaned, “not just yet,” you huffed an annoyed reply and decided to let him take the wheel.

That was when you felt a strong hand caressing your soaking undies; the touch was merely there, abut you were very sensitive and very responsive to him and whatever he did to you. It was only then when you more or less realized that this man, who treated like no other man had treated you before, could do as he pleased with you; he could break you and put you back together with just a graze of his fingers on your needy skin.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and dug your heels on the small of his back in an effort to pull him closer and to make him fulfill the promise of a night of pure senseless fucking.

“Barton,” you groaned hastily, “fuck me into oblivion, would you?” You moaned loudly once you felt his fingers gliding along your folds but still over the drenched fabric that you still wore. You painfully understood why he did it. He wanted you to beg and you sure as hell would because he was that good at it.

“Girls your age are so impatient,” he wickedly laughed, “follow my lead just this once and we’ll do it the way you want to, baby,” his fingers lingered lazily, and no matter how loud you pleaded, his pace would neither change nor stop.

He got down on his knees and decided to spare you; he slid down your legs your moist underwear and examined your aching core. You longed for the touch of a man like him. A touch that needn’t no hurries and that could find the wonders of your body without making much effort; he just excelled at it.

“Clint,” you surrendered, “please?”

He grinned wickedly, and parsimoniously slid one thick digit inside you; you were completely wet and it felt incredible. His finger was gladly welcomed inside to appease the agony of your longing; even though you had been around and you had had some great experiences at one night stands, Clint Barton was without a doubt the best one.

His pace increased and so did your heartbeat. You were no longer in control of your own senses and what a wonderful feeling it was. You were his and you didn’t mind being made and unmade by the blonde, tough man who had appeared into your life as sudden as he was gone. You interlaced your fingers with his hair and pushed his face closer to your body. He got the signals and as if you were fresh water in the middle of the desert and he had been thirsty for years before he found you again, his lips glued to your craving cunt and worked his magic. You let your head hang back as you tried to forget about everything and everyone.

You couldn’t even scream; your senses were numbed in the best way, and he was avidly eating you out. This was not precisely fucking, but he was certainly sending you into the pit of oblivion. You were panting and gasping for some needed air with all your being, it was so much that you couldn’t even ask Clint for a break, you were just too over the edge and your body was not responding to yourself.

He looked up, in between your shaking legs and licked his lips in a lecherous manner. It was then when you finally got some air into your lungs. He stood up again and kissed you so fervently that the taste of yourself was long forgotten –not like you cared about it, but some men seemed to care; well, he was definitely not like the others and you still had to let that idea sink into your brain.

“You’ve been a very good girl, (Y/N),” he cooed to your ear, “you deserve to take the lead now,” he placed feather kisses on your jawline and tickling you with his stubble. “Where to?”

“My room,” you murmured, and in the blink of an eye, he had you in his arms in a bridal style manner and he conducted you to your bedroom.

The bed was neatly done, it surely wouldn’t hurt to have it a bit messed. He laid you there and finally freed his shaft from the constraint that his jeans and underwear were. You wondered how he managed to keep it there for so long, because that thing it must have hurt at some point, but it was all yours now; there was no space for pondering and daydreaming. It was your turn to make him feel worshipped and loved.

Without being told, he slid a condom down his length. “No homecoming blowjob?” You asked while tugging at his hand to drag him to bed. He kneeled on the mattress and you started your own work. “Oh, Barton,” you purred, “I’ve missed you so much,” you dragged him nearer to you and pushed his back flat onto the mattress..

You straddled his hips and with your hand you teased yourself with his length. You could see in his closed eyes and tight jaw how much he ached for you; every second you awaited, his need grew ardent and painful. He gripped the bedding tightly, even so that you could heard the threads breaking.

You sunk your hips slowly, listening attentively to the soft heavy sigh he gave. His lids fluttered open and there he found you again, rolling your hips lazily; your soft smile broke every few minutes when his girth found you too tight, but when you were able to go at your own pace, you started speeding up. You were not rolling your hips anymore, and if you were, it was a sloppy movement; no rhythm whatsoever and it was when the night became fun.

He let go of the beddings and held on to your hips instead; thumbing on your hipbone and encouraging you to keep going. He was diving into oblivions like you had done earlier; his hips rocked against yours and even though your bodies were in sync, nothing else were. He smacked you, taking you completely by surprise; it was a delightful change. You propped yourself with for hands on the sides of Clint’s head and leaned forward to be closer to him. He cupped your face and looked at you with loving eyes. All was forgotten now; every little thing that once hurt you was long gone and it was just the two of you in that place. You were at peace and with a man that cared.

“Clint, I’m—” you whimpered, “I’m close—god, I’m so fucking close—” you choked.

“Come on,” he cheered, “come on, baby girl,” he placed one of his hands on the small of your back and kept you in place as he pounded deeper and harder into you.

Your orgasm was so intense that you felt dizzy for one second; it was loud, it was powerful and most of all, it was energizing. He helped you rode it out by rolling your hips gentler than ever and whispering sweet nothings in your ear meanwhile you tried to get yourself together again. You tried to lift your torso to get up and off from the bed, but you were too worn out for it and so you fell on Clint’s chest and he chuckled hoarsely and petted your sweaty hair.

“Well, I didn’t know you could really fuck me senseless and into oblivion,” he broke the catch-breathing silence, “that is a new move indeed,” you looked up and smiled like a full-time dork, “let’s get you under the covers so you don’t get cold, I kinda have to go,” he said with a taint of reluctance in his voice, as if he forced himself to leave.

“Do you really have to?” You pouted in a childish manner. “Because it would be cool if you could stay for breakfast…” you mimicked his words from the very first time.

“(Y/N), it’s not even time for dinner,” he rose one of those blonde eyebrows at you.

“I know, therefore you should stay for both,” you made your way to his lips and kissed him tenderly. You could feel how a silly smile spread on your lips as well on his.

“Well, I’ve got nowhere to be neither later today nor early tomorrow morning so… why the hell not?”

You finally gathered some strength so get up and headed for the wardrobe and took your summer pajamas from one of the drawers. While you were sliding up your arms your lazy hoodie, Clint whistled in approval; you looked at him from over your shoulder and furrowed your brows in confusion, as if you were asking for an answer.

“You’re really gorgeous, (Y/N),” he sighed.

“You said that yesterday,” you pointed out.

“I know,” he laughed breathily and stood up; as naked as he was, he walked next to you and gladly received the shirt you handed him, “but you really are, and I’m glad I’m back,” he placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

“So am I, Barton…” you smiled, “so am I,” you cupped his cheek and pulled him closer for a soft kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired in "Guys my age" by Hey Violet :)
> 
> You can find this on tumblr as well, but this is the revised version. Once I go back to tumblr, I will post this new one. Feedback would be very nice!
> 
> (http://writingfortheavengers.tumblr.com/post/157590864487/guys-my-age)


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